


where we stood was holy ground

by opheliahyde



Series: tumblr "type of kisses" prompt meme fills [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bodyswap, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-20 21:55:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19385392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opheliahyde/pseuds/opheliahyde
Summary: An angel and a demon share a kiss in a park.





	where we stood was holy ground

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scorpiod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiod/gifts).



> Written for the tumblr prompt _Can’t Let Go Yet Kiss_. 
> 
> Title taken from lyrics by Taylor Swift.

Crowley held onto the slip of parchment, running his fingers over the ragged, burnt edges— he tries to recite the prophecy in his head, picking apart the riddle and the double-meanings, poking for anything they might’ve gotten wrong. 

“Good lord,” Aziraphale breathes out, his shoulder knocking against Crowley’s, a whole lot less delicate than what he’d come to expect, lacking the requisite politeness that Aziraphale at least tries to feign. “I can hear you thinking from here.” 

He reaches over and tries to snatch the prophecy from Crowley’s finger, but Crowley quickly lifts it out of reach, hand high above Aziraphale’s head; Aziraphale’s mouth forms a line, not giving into the temptation to leap for it, choosing his pride. Aziraphale rolls his eyes instead. “Everything will go according to plan, I’ve made sure of it. So stop worrying, your anxiety is catching.” 

Crowley laughs, a bark of a sound that tastes bitter on his tongue. “How can you be sure they won’t figure it out? That you’ve got the right meaning?  _ Switching _ —that’s a hell of a stretch.” Crowley stops, making Aziraphale pause in his quick steps to make up for Crowley’s long strides. “We can still run, Angel,” Crowley says, lowering his voice, lifting his eyes to the sky, “head for the stars.” 

Aziraphale moves in front of him, blocking Crowley’s path.  _ There are still exit strategies _ , he wants to tell him,  _ you can’t block all escape routes _ , but then Aziraphale’s hand is warm on his cheek, palm cupping around his jaw, a paper calloused thumb stroking down the jut of his cheekbone and his tongue is struck dumb, throat constricting as he chokes on the words. 

“You know we can’t, my dear boy,” Aziraphale says, careful dulcet tones warming his skin, making his cheeks burn. “They will find us, at least this time we’ll be ready and have the advantage.” Aziraphale pets his cheek once, then draws his hand back, movement slow and lingering. “Now,” he says, rolling his shoulders back, “We should get on with it before they—”

Crowley catches Aziraphale’s elbow, then tugs him back as Aziraphale’s hand comes to rest on his forearm, steadying himself as he stumbles, Crowley drawing them closer than before. Their bodies brush as Crowley catches his cheek, arching forward, swooping down before he can think about it, pressing his mouth against Aziraphale’s. 

Aziraphale lets out a soft  _ oh _ against Crowley’s mouth—the corners of Crowley’s mouth twitch then curl as he presses his lips firmer down. Aziraphale starts to push back, rising up on the balls of his feet to wrap his arms over the back of Crowley’s neck, drawing himself flush against Crowley as his lips part, the tip of his tongue sweeping across Crowley’s bottom lip. 

He should have done this last night when he wanted to, given into the urge to shove Aziraphale back against the door to his flat when he let him inside and kissed him, then never stopped kissing him until the morning came—it wouldn’t have been enough, not enough to make up for the time they’ve lost, but more than this: one kiss on the verge of separation, when they could be snatched at any moment. 

But he’d been a coward, a foolish demon with something too holy in his bed, curled up against his side asleep, so trusting as he dozed while Crowley couldn’t make himself sleep, laying wide awake as he listened to Aziraphale’s soft breaths and tick-tock heartbeat. 

Crowley makes him break away, gasping at the whimper that escapes Aziraphale’s mouth as he chases back Crowley’s lips; Crowley has to catch him, cup his face between his hands as he rests his forehead on Aziraphale’s, letting his sunglasses slip down his nose so that he can look into his eyes without obstruction. “I just don’t want to lose you, Angel,” he says, his voice breaking. “I already did that once, don’t make me live through it again.” 

Aziraphale brushes back the fringe from Crowley’s brow, fingertips scraping his scalp in just a way that causes a shudder to work down Crowley’s spine, a tingling grow on the back of his neck. “That won’t happen, my darling,” he says, giving Crowley a small smile. “I’ll give them hell so it doesn’t happen. But we really should get on with it, quickly before anyone sees.” 

Aziraphale leans in again and Crowley almost stops him, not sure he could stop if Aziraphale started kissing him again, but when his lips press against his own, Aziraphale runs his hands down his arms and presses their palms together, intertwining their fingers. Crowley feels Aziraphale draw his soul out with his mouth as Aziraphale’s soul pushes in, their very essences gliding through each other, entangling for a moment, becoming one until they slam into the opposite bodies. 

Crowley looks up into his own eyes, feeling smaller as Aziraphale gives him a cheery grin with his own mouth. 

“I think I could go for an ice cream cone,” Aziraphale says, stepping back, testing out his new legs as Crowley gets used to his shorter gait—they match pace. “Couldn’t you?” 

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi to me on [tumblr](http://richiesseth.tumblr.com)!


End file.
